Wolf's Blood
by Crippled Wings
Summary: On Hold-Post HBP but not DH compliant. It has been nearly thirteen years since Harry Potter has disappeared altogether from the Wizarding world. Now a young boy has arrived at the steps of Hogwarts nearly dead. Why does this make the new professor worried
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

Pain.

That was all that he felt right now. He cringed as another surge of it ripped through his body. Clenching his teeth, he looked down at his arm. From his mid-bicep down the rest of the arm was scratched and ripped. He even knew there was at least one broken bone within the arm. He looked away, unable to bear the disgusting sight. Pushing off of the rock that he had rested against for what seemed like minutes, he continued onward. He knew there was someplace out here. Somewhere that he would at least be able to be treated.

A bolt of lightning lit up the nighttime sky as he trudged forward. Off in the distance, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a large castle. Knowing that was his destination, he pushed himself harder. The rain had been coming down steadily for the last hour, and it showed no signs of letting up. Soaked, bloody and filthy, the boy continued on.

* * *

The warmth of the fireplace radiated through the small chambers. Sitting in one of the rather ornate armchairs overlooking it, a lone figure sighed. Brushing a single strand of stark white hair out of his eyes, the man looked around the mantle piece. There were his many achievements; a quidditch cup from years ago, several medals for his valor during the war, and a few pictures that held special memories. Unlike many wizards of his time, he chose not to have the pictures move like so many others around the castle. These were simple ones that had accumulated over the years. In one was him receiving some medal or award of some kind, and then there were the more personal ones.

His icy blue eyes came across one in particular. In it were three individuals. One was a young man, his hair red as flame with a goofy grin on his face. Beside him with her arm wrapped around him, was a brunette. She had a gorgeous smile on her face and a pair of sharp eyes. Off on the other side of the two was a young boy, his black hair wild and unruly with a small smile plastered on his face.

The man, one Professor Mark McDougal, shook his head lightly at the picture, "The infamous Golden Trio. Whatever happened to the three of you?"

Pondering the fate of the "Golden Trio", he rose to his feet and slowly walked over to the window. The rain was falling rather badly now, and he hoped that poor Hagrid had gotten out of it before it had opened up on the grounds. He sipped idly at a cup of tea as he watched the weather outside.

* * *

The weather only seemed to worsen the closer he came to the large castle. His steps were slow and painful, his own blood and tears mixing in with the rain that fell on the ground. He bit his lower lip as he stumbled slightly, _'I can't…..can't stop…..now….So….close….'_

He took a few more steps before he lost his footing on the slick path. Falling into the soft mud and rainwater, he laid there for a moment or two. His right arm throbbed painfully, causing him to groan in pain. Carefully and slowly, he began to ease himself back up to his feet. It took him a few moments to finally stand again, but he refused to give up.

He turned his eyes back towards the castle, now only a haze in the distance. Redoubling his efforts, the young boy continued to trudge on.

* * *

Professor McDougal felt it before he even saw it. A sharp spike in the energy around the castle was all he really needed to know before he began scanning the ground outside. Though dark as it was, he had picked up a knack for locating energy sources. It took him a minute to locate it, but he soon found the figure moving in the rain. It was small, but it was human. That much he was sure of. He watched for a minute to determine if it was friendly or unfriendly. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky as he watched, and what he saw made him take a step backwards.

Walking in the rain, wounded and possibly dying, was a young boy no more than eleven years old. Immediately, he turned and ran through the door on his way to the castle gates. The halls of the great school were often filled with students, but during the summer months it did have a tendency to feel deserted and lifeless. Turning down corridors and flying down staircases, Professor McDougal raced for the entry way. He turned another corner and had to side step fast before he ran into a familiar sight.

"What in blazes," Filch screamed in fright as he brought his lamp up to identify the source. Upon recognizing McDougal, he noticed the worried look on his face, "Professor? What's got you riled up now?"

"No time to explain Argus," Mark yelled as he grabbed Argus by the arm and began racing towards the gate with him in tow, "Right now there is someone out in that weather wounded and headed here! I need you to inform the Headmistress and Madame Pomfrey immediately!"

Argus nodded, knowing that if this particular professor was worried then there was cause to panic. As soon as Mark released his arm, he began to run for the Headmistresses office and would then head to the Infirmary. As he did so, Mark continued towards the front door of Hogwarts. Muttering a silent prayer under his breath, he only hoped he was not too late.

* * *

The castle was beginning to loom over him even more now. The front gates that, up until a few moments ago had been invisible to his vision were within sight. His feet faltered as he fell to his knees again for the countless times he had. His world around him was slowly beginning to lose its vividness.

He cursed under his breath, "Get…up….Nate. Get up…now!"

Somewhere he found the strength within himself to stand again. His legs were weak and weary from the journey, but he had enough left in them to carry him just that little distance left. Thunder clapped and lightning flashed around him as he worked his way through the mud and water towards the door.

The blurriness of his vision was beginning to become worse the closer he got. He slowly began to feel weaker and weaker. His thoughts were becoming more jumbled with each passing step. Soon he knew that he would not be getting back up.

Suddenly, the door was right before him. His knees then gave out, and he knew that he would not be able to stand again. Raising his good hand, he slammed it as hard as he could manage against the door. He pounded for what seemed like hours, before he slowly began to slow the pounding. With one last knock, Nate fell against the door as his world began to turn dark.

_"I…made…it…,"_ was the last things on his mind before everything went black.

* * *

He heard the pounding in the corridor even against the raging storm outside. Cursing under his breath, McDougal drew his wand from within his robe. As he rounded the next corner, he began casting the opening charm on the large castle door. He never broke stride as he came closer to the slowly opening door. Within moments the pounding ceased outside and McDougal picked up his pace even more. A few seconds later the door swung open, allowing the sounds of the storm outside to pour into the entryway.

Lying on the ground, even bloodier than he had expected, was in fact a young boy with earthen brown hair. His clothes and hair were matted against his body from the rain, sweat, and blood that covered him.

Pulling the boy quickly up into his arms, McDougal began to close the doors behind him as he pulled the boy inside. When the doors were fully secure, Mark turned to examine the boy. Thankfully, he was only unconscious, but that could change any second. He promptly applied a healing spell to hopefully stabilize the boy long enough for Madame Pomfrey to get there. Slowly, he began to mend what little he could while he waited for his colleagues to arrive to aid the boy better than he could.

He took the moment to examine the boy and his wounds a little closer, knowing he was at least out of danger for the time being. Mark had been right in his assumption that the boy was really only about eleven years of age, and with long dark brown hair. In the flickering light, it almost had green hints to it. His skin was slightly tanned, possibly from being in the sun for awhile.

Satisfied with the child's physical characteristics for now, he examined the wound more closely. His arm was torn to pieces, long gashes of skin missing completely while some lay in ragged, puckered strips along the length of it. There was a portion of one of his forearm bones sticking out of the skin at a sickening angle, and there were large amounts of blood pulsating out of the wounds.

McDougal ripped a portion of his robe away to make a bandage to stem some of the blood flow, but he wouldn't need to staunch it for long. After what seemed like an hour's time, the two he had sent Filch for rounded the corner. He looked up from attending to the boy long enough to recognize them.

The two elderly women were dressed in evening attire, both with their hair done up for sleep. The older of the two held a rather perplexed and worried look upon her face as she looked between himself and the boy at his feet. She looked at him worriedly as the other rushed to the boys' side, "Is he alright, Mark?"

He shrugged his shoulders as Pomfrey examined him, "I'm not sure, though he's still alive for the moment."

The old medi-witch quickly began casting charms and small healing and cleansing charms, "He's in bad shape, Minerva. We need to get him to the hospital wing quickly."

Minerva McGonagall nodded in agreement, "Yes, quickly. Come now!"

Between the three of them, they quickly levitated the young boy to the Infirmary. It was then that time seemed to slow as Pomfrey and her assistant, Gina Wellings, shooed them from the room while they worked on the boy. McGonagall began to look nervously towards Mark, "Do you think he'll be alright, Professor McDougal?"

Mark took a deep breath, weighing the odds. Unhappy with the possible outcome, he frowned, "It doesn't look good. He doesn't have the best odds, I'm afraid. Yet, something is different about this boy. Different than any other boy of his age that I've come into contact with."

The old headmistress looked at the younger man with a keen eye, "What do you mean? Is there something that doesn't seem right with him?"

"Not right or wrong, per se…" Mark said, slowly picking his words. He raised a hand to his chin in thought, pondering the possibilities that could cause such a power he had felt earlier to take shape in a young boy, "But it seems this boy is quite unique, in the magical sense. I think it prudent to keep an eye on this one."

McGonagall slowly nodded her head, still unsure of what the younger had deemed unique. After a moment or so, she found a seat and rested her aging body in it. Mark slowly, but anxiously paced a small circuit in the waiting room of the Infirmary wing while the two medi-witches worked their spells. It wasn't until long after midnight that Gina came out into the waiting room, "Professors?"

Immediately, McGonagall jumped to her feet to greet the young lady, "Yes, Ms. Wellings? Is he stabile?"

The girl shied away lightly at the suddenness of the questions, "Well, he's stabile, yes. Though for the moment he remains unconscious. There's no telling when he might wake up."

Mark drew her attention by clearing his throat, "The cuts on his arm. Do you possibly know what could have caused them?"

Gina gently shook her head, making her straight blonde hair bounce in the torchlight, "Not at this moment. Though, for all that we know, it was a magical source that caused them. Even with Madame Pomfrey's magic, their still will be scars from it."

He nodded his head, "I see. Minerva?"

The older woman looked at him with a little sadness in her eyes, "Yes, Mark?"

Straightening his back, he resumed the posture of an authority figure, "You'd best get some sleep. I'll keep an eye on the boy. I wasn't particularly tired tonight anyways. I'll report how he is in the morning. Everyone else get some rest."

The two women looked between themselves and then back at him. Though it was McGonagall who voiced the unsaid, "Are you sure, Professor McDougal? Perhaps we could rouse one of the other Professors…"

He raised a hand to cut her off, "No. I'll do it. Only fitting since I was the one to come across him. Now go on and get some rest."

The two women acquiesced, if not reluctantly to his demands. Madame Pomfrey refused outright, stating that no one would ever see her sleep with a patient in her care. The young professor conjured up a chair and sat down by the boys' bedside. With what light there was in the room, he continued to examine the boy. Something was different about him, and it wouldn't leave him be till he found out why this one felt that way.

He smiled lightly in the flickering light, _"Perhaps we'll see just how strong you really are sooner than we think."_

With that, he sat in silence on constant vigil for the as yet nameless boy.

_**End of Chapter I**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

The first thing he noticed was how dark the world around him was. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and then quickly shutting them back against the light that was filtering into the room. Bringing a hand to shield his eyes from the light, he tried opening his eyes again. The room slowly began to come into focus. It seemed like some sort of hospital, but in the confines of an old castle. Beside his bedside was a chair propped up with a book resting in the seat. Next to the bed was a small night stand with a variety of cups and instruments on it. He slowly began to sit up, and stopped abruptly at the pain that shot up his arm. The boy looked down at his arm, noticing the large amount of bandages that wrapped around it. As he pondered this, a gasp of surprise sounded from the door way. Startled, he looked up to see a young woman in her mid twenties standing there with a tray of medical supplies in her hand. She quickly gained her composure as she walked towards him, "You're awake! You startled me!"

"I'm sorry," he croaked through his sore throat. He clutched at it, rubbing it lightly. The nurse looked at him as she came to his bedside. He looked at her, noticing the way she looked. Her amber colored hair was pulled back into a long flowing ponytail. She was dressed in a loose pale blue robe with pockets just below the belt line. She smiled as she reached his bed and began checking his temperature.

"Does your voice hurt?" She said in a soothing voice, lightly resting her hand on his forehead. He nodded slowly, still feeling a little drowsy. She smiled at him reassuringly, "Well I can fix that easily enough. Hold on a moment and I'll be right back."

After she finished taking his temperature, she turned and almost ran from the room. While she was gone, he looked around, looking at everything there was to look at in this room. She returned only a moment later, but with another person in tow. This man had stark white hair on his head and a pair of piercing blue eyes. He watched as the two came to stand around his bed. The man looked at him, almost as if assessing him as a threat or something around those lines. He didn't have much of a chance to think about it as the woman gently handed him a glass with a thick purple liquid in it. He looked at it, wondering what it would be used for. She laughed lightly, "It's alright. It's to help your throat. Don't worry it tastes very sweet."

He looked between her and the glass, as if deciding whether it was better to trust her or not. Eventually he decided to go with it and slowly began to drink at the glass. The taste was indeed sweet, if not too sweet. His throat began to feel better as he continued to drink at the liquid. When he had finished off the glass, he gently handed it back to the woman. She took it and smiled at him, "There now, feel better?"

The boy nodded lightly at her. She smiled a little wider and then looked at the man on the opposite side of the bed from herself, "There you go Professor. He should be able to answer a few questions, though take it easy on him."

He looked at the man on the other side of him, a frightened look in his eyes. The man nodded at the nurse and then spoke in a thick accent, "Thank you, Ms. Wellings. I'll try not to be too hard on the boy."

With that the nurse, Ms. Wellings, left the room leaving him and the boy alone to talk. The man looked at him, trying to decide where to begin. He settled back in the chair he had occupied, "Right, well best to start off with the simple questions?"

His eyes locked with his own, and he felt at ease when he looked into this man's eyes. The man smiled lightly, "First let me introduce myself to you. My name is Mark McDougal. I'm a teacher here, but for now it doesn't matter. You're safe here. What's your name?"

The boy searched his memory, trying to find an answer. It took him nearly five minutes before he found the answer, "Nathanial."

Mark nodded his head, "Very good. At least it's a start. Now Nathanial, how old are you?"

It took another few moments of searching before Nathanial found an answer. During the time, his eyes had a far away look in them until he spoke again, "I'm eleven, sir."

"Good," Mark said, resting his hand on his chin, "Where are you're parents, Nathanial? Do you know where you're from?"

Nathanial searched, looking in his mind for the information. He thought and thought, but he couldn't come up with an answer. He looked down at the sheets he was in, "I…I don't know…I don't think that I have parents."

An eyebrow rose on Mark's face, "You can't remember them at all?"

Nathanial shook his head slowly, "No, sir. I don't remember anything about them or if I have any."

Marks eyes narrowed just a little. "Alright, do you know how you got here?"

The brown haired boy sat in thought, his eyes focused on the sheets in front of him. Mark waited patiently, hoping that there was more than he could see to the boy so far. Nathanial again shook his head, "No. I don't even know where I am."

For a moment, Mark did not respond to the boy. He only looked at him, as if trying to make sense of something that was beyond comprehension. After a moment, his expression softened, and he smiled at Nathanial. He stood slowly, "Alright, well I think that's enough for now. You need to get some rest. You still have some healing left to do. I'll be back in a few hours to check on you again. If you need anything, just ask Ms. Wellings or Madame Pomfrey. They'll take care of you just fine."

As he began to walk out of the room, Nathanial called out to him, "Sir?"

Mark stopped and looked back at the boy in the hospital bed with a curious look, "Yes, Nathanial?"

The boy pulled back a little at the authority in the voice, but still looked at him, "Where am I and how long was I out?"

The older man looked at him, as if debating if he should tell him. He finally smiled lightly at the boy, "You're at a private school in the Scottish Highlands. And to answer your other question, you've been out for neatly two weeks. We were starting to get a little concerned about you."

With that, he turned and left the room silently, leaving the boy to his thoughts.

* * *

After having left the hospital wing, Mark went to McGonagall's office. As he knocked on the large door that led to the inner room, he wondered just what he would tell her. Hearing her voice allow him to enter, he walked in. She was sitting behind the desk in the room, various objects in the room either moving on their own or by magical means. McGonagall looked up from the stack of papers she was working on when she heard his footsteps. She looked at him gently, a small smile on her face, "Professor McDougal. To what do I owe the visit today?"

He nodded in greeting, "I have a little bit of both good and bad news I'm afraid, Minerva."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "What kind of news?"

Mark straightened up under her gaze, "Well, the good news is that the boy has woken up. His name is Nathanial and he is eleven years old."

The older witch sat back in her chair, slightly relieved, "Thank heavens. I was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to. Did you already contact his parents?"

The other professor shifted slightly, "I'm afraid not, Minerva. Things are a wee bit more…complicated than that."

The Headmistress looked up at him, the question already written on her face, "What do you mean Mark?"

He motioned at a chair near the desk, "May I?"

She nodded and waited as he sat and made himself comfortable. During this small amount of time, Mark composed himself to tell her the other portion of his news. When he was settled, he fixed the Headmistress with a worried look, "I'm afraid that the boy is not able to remember anything other than his name and age. He doesn't even remember how he got here."

McGonagall opened her mouth in shock as she looked at the young man across from her, "Are you sure, Mark? Surely he couldn't have lost all his memories?"

"For now, it appears that way," He stated, resting his head on his hand as looked at the old Headmistress, "I'm afraid only time will tell. I'm sure that it will eventually come back, but there is no guarantee when."

He left the last bit of his original statement off, but knew that McGonagall was thinking the same thing. The two teachers sat there in silence, their thoughts lingering over what was unsaid. After some time, Mark cleared his throat, "Do you think that we should inform the ministry?"

The woman across the desk gently rested her head in her hands, staring off into space. She sat this way for minutes before sighing heavily, "I'm afraid that I have no choice now, Mark. I most assuredly guarantee that they will want to take the child into protective custody."

Mark scoffed at that, "I'm afraid that their form of 'protective custody' will most likely mean an orphanage. And I for one do not want to put that child into that kind of environment. I remember the last case of a child placed in an orphanage, and I for one would not like to repeat it."

McGonagall nodded slowly. She took in a deep breath before standing, "But we must still inform the ministry. At least this way we may be able to find some form of relative for him to stay with."

At this, Mark stood along with the elder professor, "Perhaps, Minerva, there is a middle ground that can be reached here?"

She looked at him, puzzled, "What are you suggesting Mark?"

"Well, the only reason I found the boy that night was because he gave off an incredibly powerful magical aura," Mark started slowly beginning to pace the floor behind the chairs, "This means that the boy does have some magical talent and that was how he was able to arrive here in enough time to be treated. He must have tapped into his magical core and used that to cast minor healing spells on himself without knowing what he was doing. It would explain some of the memory loss too. I've read and studied cases like this before, Minerva. The boy could be suffering memory loss from having used so much magic to keep himself alive long enough to get here."

McGonagall thought for a moment, still looking at him questioningly, "It's possible, Mark. Just what are you getting at?"

The younger professor looked at her as he stopped pacing, "I'm saying, let the boy stay here for the summer. Classes start up in a little more than a month, and I'm certain that Poppy and Ms. Wellings will be able to have him up and moving about on his own in that amount of time to attend. He has the gift of magic, Minerva. He needs to be taught and seeing as how he is already at the school…"

Mark trailed off, waiting for McGonagall to respond. She looked at him, as if debating if the idea was sound or silly. Eventually she nodded slowly, "I suppose you're right, Mark. You have a rather infuriating knack for being that way, you know?"

The younger simply waved off the compliment, "I'm only using the intelligence that I was taught to use, Professor."

The older professor smiled a little, then nodded at him, "I'll inform the Ministry of our young ward and then of our plans to keep him here until the start of term. I doubt the Ministry will put up that much of a fight."

Mark smiled as he nodded his head in approval, "Very well. I still have other arrangements to be made for the upcoming semester to be taken care of, so I must excuse myself now. I'll keep talking with the boy as well. Hopefully I can jog some of his memories. At the very least, find out who his parents are."

With that, Mark bowed and then began to leave the room.

"Mark?"

He stopped and turned to look at McGonagall. She smiled at him, "Hopefully you're planning for the arrival of some of our more anticipated students."

Mark cringed, remembering the enrollment roster. He looked at her disapprovingly, "Professor, surely you jest. I remember the last time some of that family roamed these halls. I'm not about to underestimate the next generation."

The Headmistress smiled broadly, "I'm sure you won't, Mark. But do be careful. I hear this one is as tricky as her uncles."

Mark shuddered as he said his goodbyes to her. Leaving her office and heading for his own, he had plans to put in place for the next semester. _"And to prank proof my classroom and quarters. Maybe even the dormitory that she winds up living in. Can never be too careful with a Weasley."_

* * *

The next two weeks went by with little much occurring. Nathanial only knew that he was getting more frustrated the longer he couldn't remember anything else. Things he knew that he should know were not there. It was like he didn't exist until he woke up. Every time he became frustrated, though, Ms. Wellings would come in and shoo Professor Mark out of the room so that he could rest. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the professor's help, it was just infuriating to not know the simple details about himself. During the times that the professor left him alone, Ms. Wellings kept him company. Slowly, he became friends with her. She even offered to let him call her by her first name, to which he resolutely told her that it didn't sound right.

Near the end of the two weeks, Madame Pomfrey and Miss Wellings had finally come in to tell him that they would be removing the bandages from his arm. While he had been anticipating this, he was unsure of what he would see under them. Every time he moved that arm, even a little, it felt like fire burning up his arm and into his body. Though it had lessened and he could move it with some difficulty, it still hurt to do so.

Madame Pomfrey stood there, a strange stick like object in her hands looking at him. She smiled at him, "Alright, now hold still. This won't take long."

Nathanial nodded nervously, wondering what the stick was. His answer came when Madame Pomfrey slowly touched the tip to the bandages and then began to trail it down along the outside of the bandages. Where it had touched, the bandage had been cut, beginning to reveal the scarred skin beneath. Nathanial looked on in awe, both at his arm and at what Madame Pomfrey was doing. When she was done, she waved the stick at the bandages on the floor and they disappeared into thin air. He looked up at the two nurses with a look of awe on his face, "That was amazing! How did you do that?"

"That, Nathanial was magic."

Looking towards the door, Nathanial noticed Professor McDougal standing there leaning against the door frame. On his face was a small, contented smile. "It's a gift every witch and wizard is blessed with. One that this school sees fit to teach the next generation of witches and wizards."

Nathanial looked at him lopsidedly as he came closer to the bed. In his hand was a piece of parchment, and as he got closer, both Madame Pomfrey and Miss Wellings left. When he came to stand by his bedside, the professor waved his hand and a chair appeared from nothing. Sitting down on it, Professor McDougal looked over at Nathanial, "It's a wee bit shocking, isn't it?"

The only thing Nathanial could do was nod dumbly. Professor McDougal chuckled lightly as he handed Nathanial the piece of parchment. Looking at it, Nathanial noticed it was actually an envelope. It was addressed to him in this specific bed in the hospital wing. He looked back at the professor, who only smiled at him, "Go ahead. Open it. It won't bite."

Breaking the seal, Nathanial pulled the slip of paper out and unfolded it. As he read it, his eyes started to get wider and wider. When he finished he looked over at the professor at his side, who smiled wider. He stretched out a hand to Nathanial, a happy twinkle in his eyes, "Welcome to Hogwarts, Nathanial. Starting this fall, you'll be learning how to use and understand magic."

Cautiously, Nathanial took the proffered hand and shook it lightly, "Thank you, Professor."

As the moment ended and the hand shake was finished, Professor McDougal stood from his chair. Dismissing the chair, he turned to look down at Nathanial, "As soon as Madame Pomfrey says you're able to, we'll go to Diagon Alley to get you your school supplies. But first…"

He reached into a vest pocket and pulled out a miniaturized set of clothes. Setting them down on the bed near Nathanial, he began to make his way out of the room, "That's your new set of clothes. You can wear those when we go to get your school things."

Nathanial looked at the small doll sized clothes in disbelief, "Professor, I can't fit in these! There far too small!"

He didn't notice the flick of a wand over the professors' shoulder, only that the clothes increased in size before his very eyes. Now looking at them, he most certainly could fit into them. As he turned to look back at Professor McDougal, he saw him stop at the door and smile back at him, "First lesson, Nathanial. Not everything is as it appears."

_**End of Chapter II**_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

It had been another two weeks before either Madame Pomfrey or Miss Wellings would allow Nathanial to wander around on his own, but they eventually relented. From what he had been told, classes at the school would start in another week or so and he was unsure of what that would bring. For the days after he had been allowed out of the hospital wing, he had taken to walking some of the hallways around it and to visiting some of the classrooms, and had once even visited Professor McDougal's office. He had learned a little about the school during his wanderings, noting that there were a few odd things, the least of which had been a ghost wandering through the infirmary one day. He was still wary of those things, even when he had been told that even if they could they wouldn't harm him. It was on these walks that he had taken to questioning himself on who he was, but so far he still only knew what everyone else did. Dejectedly, he found himself looking out of a window on the second floor. Off in the distance he could see the Black Lake and the vast forest around it. Seeing the serene sight did nothing to put his relentless mind at ease. Sighing heavily, he looked on at the beautiful scenery before him.

"Enjoying the last of the summer air, I see."

Startled, Nathanial stopped and looked around at the voice. Standing not too far from him in a doorway was Professor McDougal. The older man smiled at him, and came up to him to stand along side him, "My apologies if I scared you. Not my meaning I assure you."

Nathanial shook his head, calming himself a little at the sight of the professor, "It's alright professor. I was just out thinking."

The professor nodded, understanding where the young mans train of though was going. The two stood there for awhile before the older of them spoke up, "I hear that you and Miss Wellings are getting along rather nicely."

"Yes," Nathanial stated, a little shyly the professor noted, "She has been kind. Though, you all don't really have to. I just sort of..."

"Dropped into our laps from nowhere?" The professor finished, noting the look of resignation on Nathanial's face. Mark chuckled, "Think nothing of it, Nathanial. We did what was right, and that is another lesson that you can follow throughout your life."

Nathanial looked at the professor in confusion, "Professor, classes have not yet started and I'm getting instructions already?"

Mark laughed, a rich sound that reverberated along the hall, "Aye, that's true. But there are always little things that we can all learn, whether in a classroom or in the real world."

He turned slightly to Nathanial, a smile still on his face, "Which reminds me. We need to get your things for the coming school year. I suggest a trip is in order."

Nathanial turned and looked at the older man in confusion, "Things? You mean I need to buy my own things? I don't have any money, how can I do that?"

The professor began to walk away, and then turned with a smile still playing at the corner of his lips. He soon reached down and ruffled the boys hair lightly, "Well, don't you worry about the cost. I'll handle that. Let's get you up to McGonagall's office and see if we might use her fireplace to get where we're going."

Nathanial stared in confusion at the professor, starting after the professor, "A fireplace? How is that going to get us where we're going?"

A soft chuckle came from him as he continued to walk down the hallway, a little more speed due to the sense of purpose now found in it. The professor smiled back at Nathanial, "Magic, my boy. Magic."

* * *

It was the sound of the staircase moving and the light knock at her door that alerted McGonagall to her visitors. She had needed a break from the stack of paper work that she was working on, and what better way than with visitors. Sitting up a little straighter, she called out, "You may enter."

The door swung open gently to reveal Mark and their young charge, Nathanial. They entered the room, a smile on Mark's face and a look of confusion on the boys. Mark bowed lightly to her, "Headmistress McGonagall. How are you this fine day?"

She smiled up at him, "Quite well, despite the horde of paperwork. I see that you've brought Nathanial with you. How are you, Nathanial?"

The boy nodded shyly, still a little confused, "I-I'm fine today, Headmistress."

McGonagall cocked an eyebrow, "And your arm? Is it feeling any better?"

Nathanial moved the arm slowly, and he cringed a little, but did not protest too much from moving it around, "A little sore at times and it still hurts when I stretch it too far, but it's getting better."

McGonagall's smile got a little brighter at this, "That's good to hear. Now what can I do for you gentlemen today?"

Mark placed a hand lightly on the boys shoulder, "Well, we were curious if we might use your fireplace to get to Diagon Alley. He still needs to get his things, I'm afraid, and I have not yet had time to get them myself. I figured that a little outing into the larger world might also do our young friend here some good."

The older professor sat back a little in her chair, thinking for a moment. She looked at Nathanial and after a few moments nodded, "I don't see why not. After all, he will be seeing these walls all too often during the coming semesters."

Professor McDougal smiled, "Thank you, Headmistress. I promise we won't be gone for too long today. Just a wee bit of an excursion to the alley, then back before you know it."

She nodded, standing slowly and coming around the desk. Taking a pot from the mantle piece, she held it out for Mark as he scooped a large handful and led Nathanial over to the fireplace. Stepping inside, he turned to look at McGonagall, "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on the lad."

Again, she nodded, and watched as Mark called out their destination and then tossed the handful of floo powder to the ground. The last thing she saw of the two was the look of absolute dread on Nathanial's face as they disappeared into the puff of green smoke and flame. After the smoke and flame had died down, she slowly went about making a pot of tea. McGonagall smiled inwardly, knowing the trouble that could and most undoubtedly would follow that man.

* * *

As he choked for both air and light, Nathanial was ushered out of the new fireplace. The place they were in was nothing like the ornately decorated Headmistress's office. It was a small room, with what looked like several fireplaces all built into it. A few other people were milling about, some appearing as they had in another fireplace, and some disappearing into them. After a moment to get his bearings, he looked at the professor that had held onto him through the strange sensation of disappearing then reappearing somewhere else entirely. McDougal, seeing the look, smiled down at him, "It's called floo powder. It lets you use any fireplace that is connected to the floo network to come and go with just a handful of it. Only thing you need worry about is saying your destinations name very, very clearly. Once heard of a story of a man that didn't quite enunciate clearly."

Walking towards a brightly lit doorway, Nathanial looked back up at the man with worry on his face, "And what happened to him?"

As Mark prepared to open the doorway, he smiled, "Wound up halfway cross the globe in the fire pit of some rather nasty headhunters. Needless to say, he's spending his days hanging around their campfire."

Mark opened the door, and the sudden sights and sounds of people milling about in various shops and on the street nearly rocked Nathanial off his feet. He had become used to the sound of an empty hallway and the occasional sound of his footsteps sounding back off the walls, but this was all too much to take in. With a gentle nudge, Nathanial was led out of the door by the professor as they began to walk down the street. He was in awe and a little shocked at some of the things going on around him, "Professor, where are we?"

The older man chuckled, "Welcome, Nathanial, to Diagon Alley. Only place in all of Great Britain that you can find everything you need for your wizarding needs."

Nathanial looked on at wonders, from street performers juggling things with a mere flick of the wrist, to strange plants that people were hovering over trying to pick the best one. He spared a glance at his chaperone on this expedition, "Professor, just what exactly do I need for the semester."

"Oh, a few things," Mark said, looking as if everything was commonplace in the area, and for him it probably was. He motioned towards a shop with a sign saying 'Flourish and Blotts', "There'll be where we get your books for your classes."

Pointing around at various other shops, he ticked off things that Nathanial would need for his coming year at the school. Then Mark stopped and looked back at Nathanial, chuckling softly to himself, "Actually, I believe that the first thing that you should be doing is getting yourself a new wardrobe."

Nathanial, once again confused at the abrupt change of topics, looked back at his professor, "I'm sorry, a new wardrobe?"

Mark nodded, a twinkle of laughter in his eyes, "Yes, aside from your school robes, you'll need some other clothes to walk around in. I don't think the other students would look too kindly on someone running around in pajamas and medical clothing."

Leading the way to a shop that seemed to be quite busy, Professor McDougal stopped and motioned for Nathanial to enter, "Go on ahead, Nathanial. Pick out whatever clothes fit you, including a few sets of school robes, and tell them to charge it to my account. I'll go pick up your other things, and then I'll meet you at Olivander's."

Nathanial looked up at him, his brow creased in confusion, "What's at Olivander's, Professor?"

He smiled and ruffled the boys hair again, "Just the most important thing that you will need for all your years to come. I'll meet you there in about an hour."

With that he ushered the boy into the shop and disappeared into the crowd behind him. Nathanial, a little shyly, walked up to the counter and tried to form the words in his mind to say to this person. The witch that was sitting behind the counter, looked up at him and smiled, "Hello, Deary. What can I do for you today?"

Nathanial looked down a little, "I'm n-needing to get some s-school robes and a new wardrobe. I-I mean if that's alright."

The older witch smiled and came around the counter top, "It's quite alright. By the way, where are your parents?"

The boy gulped audibly, "M-My parents? I-I don't…that is to say…"

Seeing the boys hesitation about his parents, the witch gently placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "It's alright, Deary. Who's paying for you and taking care of you?"

He looked up at the older witch, who had a sweet smile on her face, "Professor McDougal at Hogwarts and the staff there are taking care of me. The Professor said to charge everything to his account."

The witch smiled brightly, knowing the professor, "Ah, Professor McDougal is looking after you. Well come on in then, and we'll get you all taken care of."

It was nearly forty minutes later of fitting and trying things on, that Nathanial walked out of the shop, his new clothes all shrunken down to fit nicely into his pocket. He was a little less afraid of the alley now, but still was in shock at seeing some of the things happening. As he looked around, the sign for Olivander's appeared further down the alleyway, and knowing that the professor would meet him there, decided that he better hurry over there. He tried to hurry through the crowd, which seemed to be getting even thicker the closer he got to Olivander's. Just before he got to the doorway, he ran roughly into somebody and sent both himself and the person he ran into sprawling to the ground. Realizing what he did, he quickly got to his feet, "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean t-to run into you!"

Standing up and brushing her dress off, the young girl looked at him and smiled, "It's alright. I should have been paying more attention, too."

Nathanial looked at her, noting the chestnut haired, that if the light hit it just right, had streaks of red in it. She also had the most beautiful set of chocolate eyes looking back at him. Not too far away, a voice rang out, "Elizabeth, are you alright?"

A much older witch appeared next to the younger woman, and to Nathanial it looked as though someone had just taken a copy of the older woman and made her younger. The older woman looked over her daughter, than when she was sure she was alright, looked at Nathanial with the same look, "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

Nathanial looked away, a light blush on his face, "I-I'm alright, ma'am. I-I just wasn't paying attention and I-I…"

The woman smiled at him, "its okay. As long as you and my daughter aren't hurt, then there isn't a problem. Just be careful where you're going next time, alright?"

He nodded dumbly, noticing the younger girls' eyes on him. She smiled again and stuck her hand out in greeting, "My name's Elizabeth Weasley. Pleased to meet you."

Nathanial, a little confused reached forward and took her hand, "My name's Nathanial."

Elizabeth looked at him, an eyebrow cocked questioningly, "Nathanial what?"

He stammered a moment, unsure of how to respond. The older woman patted her daughter on the head, "It's alright dear. He's shy, so let it be. By the way, Nathanial, where were you headed in such a hurry?"

Nathanial remembered in an instant where he needed to be, and looked scared that he may be late, "I have to go to Olivander's! I promised someone I'd meet them there!"

The older woman chuckled, "It's quite alright, we were headed there too. If you'd like, you could join us? Elizabeth here is getting her first wand today, as well."

He looked up at the older woman, and relaxed lightly, before a light blush came to his face again, "T-Thank you, ma'am."

"You don't have to be so polite," She responded, beginning to lead the two children to Olivander's, "You can call me Mrs. Weasley."

Nathanial nodded as the two women led him into the shop. Inside, the air felt to literally pulse around him, causing his arm to throb a little from the sensation. Mrs. Weasley ushered the two children to the counter and smiled at the old man behind it, "Hello, Mr. Olivander. I have these two children here who need their first wands today."

The old man smiled as he looked at the two, then back at Mrs. Weasley, "I see, Mrs. Weasley. Let's start with the boy, then shall we?"

Nathanial, looking a bit like a fish out of water, watched as the old man wandered through the stacks of boxes. Looking at a few boxes, he pulled one out of the stack and brought it back. Pulling a long wooden stick out of the box, he handed it to the young boy, waiting patiently. Mrs. Weasley smiled as she bent down and whispered, "Go on, give it a flick."

Nathanial, knowing nothing else to do swished the stick around in the air. Several boxes along the wall flew out and smashed into another set, nearly toppling the stack over. Mr. Olivander gently took the wand back, "Perhaps not that one, I think."

He looked about, then crawled up a ladder and retrieved another one. Coming back over to the three, he took this one out and handed it to him, "Go on, try this one."

Looking a little worried, he gave this one a flick, and nearly dropped it when a nearby feather duster burst into flames. Mr. Olivander quickly put out the flames, then again gently took the wand away, "Definitely not that one."

Beside him, Nathanial could hear Elizabeth snigger at the antics that were occurring in the shop. A few moments later, Mr. Olivander reappeared with another box in his hand. Gently opening it, and pulling the long, dark piece of wood from the box, he carefully handed it to Nathanial, "Let's see how this one fits you."

As soon as Nathanial touched the wand, he felt a sense of ease around him. He gave it a gentle flick, thinking that maybe it would make a pen dance around on the table. As soon as he finished the move, a pen did indeed come to life and began doing a jig across Mr. Olivander's desk. Nathanial looked on in astonishment from the pen to the wand, sparing a glance at Mr. Olivander. The old man seemed to be smiling, "It seems, young man, that that wand has made for you. Let's see that one is Japanese Chestnut, 11 inches in length, with a wolf's hair core."

The older Weasley looked at him curiously, "Wolf's hair, Mr. Olivander? Isn't that a non-magical creature?"

Mr. Olivander smiled at the woman, "Indeed most are, but not the one this one's hair came from. It came from a much larger and more mythical version called a Dire Wolf. Extraordinary creatures. They had some magical capacity and a much higher intellect than your average wolf."

He then turned to Nathanial with an interesting look on his face, "It would seem that there is some potential with you, young man. In what, we'll have to wait and see. But now let's see about getting the young Ms. Weasley settled in with her own wand."

Nathanial watched as Elizabeth was given a wand or two to try, each one having a different reaction to her. She even managed to create an apple from thin air, but before it could be caught smashed itself into a shelf, scattering a few boxes. Eventually her own wand was found, and her hair seemed to move as an invisible wind moved about her. She smiled up at Mr. Olivander, who shared the same bemused look, "Ah, holly, 13 inches, with a unicorn's hair core. Good for charms and other sorts of things. I see the Weasley blood is definitely in you."

About this time, the door chimed and in walked Professor McDougal. Nathanial looked at him, and barely caught the slight hesitation in the older mans step. He shook his head, thinking he was seeing things. Mark smiled as he came over to the gathered group, "Well, it seems that Nathanial has found some friends to keep him company while I was running the rest of his errands for him. And whom might you be, Miss?"

"Hermione Weasley," Misses Weasley stated, extending her hand in greeting, "and this here is my daughter, Elizabeth. And you must be Professor Mark McDougal from Hogwarts."

Mark smiled and shook the proffered hand, "I am, and it is a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Weasley, as well as your daughter."

Elizabeth smiled at the older man and then offered her own hand, "Pleased to meet you professor."

For a second, the professor seemed to examine the hand visually before shaking it, "and the pleasure is all mine."

He then turned to Olivander and Nathanial, "Did we get him all set for the coming year, Mr. Olivander?"

The old man smiled brightly at him, "We did indeed. I take it I should charge it to your account then?"

"Yes, please," The professor said, before turning back to the Weasleys, "I do apologize for not being able to stay any longer, but I do need to get back to the school. Class preparations and what not."

Hermione smiled and nodded, "Of course, Professor. Don't let us keep you. I do hope that we can have a longer conversation in the future. Take care."

He nods to her, gently maneuvering Nathanial to the door, "Most certainly, but for now I bid you goodbye."

Nathanial waved goodbye to the two as they exited. He looked up at his Professor and smiled lightly, "They were very nice."

The older man didn't look down, but smiled lightly, "They were indeed. Now did you get enough clothing to last you through the semester?"

Nathanial nodded as they stepped into the door they had exited from earlier. Once again, he had the odd experience of disappearing and reappearing elsewhere, but this time was ready for it. They were back in the Headmistress's office, the Headmistress herself sitting down to have a cup of tea with an extra spot placed. She smiled as the two entered once again, "I see your shopping trip was a success."

McDougal bowed and smiled lightly, "It was indeed. I do believe I see an extra setting at that table, do I not?"

"Observant, Professor," McGonagall said, sipping at her tea lightly. She gestured to the empty place as Mark handed Nathanial the shrunk packages and carrying bag he had gotten for the boy, "Would you care to join me?"

He looked back at the older professor and nodded gently, "I would indeed. Nathanial, you can run along now. Miss Wellings should be able to help you get those enlarged and organized, if you need any help."

The boy nodded and then walked to the door and left the tower. Mark watched as the boy left, sighing when he was sure the boy was out of earshot. McGonagall looked at him, a bit worried, "Are you alright, Mark?"

He went to the table and sat quietly, pouring himself a glass of tea, "I'm not sure, Minerva. I'm not quite sure."

* * *

Nathanial arrived in the infirmary wing of the school, hoping to find Gina there. Lucky enough for him, she was there straightening the beds. He came to the door and knocked gently, hoping not to scare her. She turned at the light sound and smiled when she saw him, "Hello, Nathanial. I heard that Professor McDougal took you to Diagon Alley today."

He nodded as he entered and began telling her things about his visit to Diagon. She helped him enlarge his wardrobe and pack them into the new trunk he would have for his things. She even explained what some of the classes that he would be taking were. Nathanial listened to her, as he looked at one of his outfits. She noticed the somewhat far away look on his face, "Nathanial, are you alright?"

"I'm not sure, Miss Wellings," he started, looking for how best to ask her the question on his mind, "I ran into a girl at the alley today. When she introduced herself, she gave me both a first and last name. When she asked me for my name, I told her, but then she asked what my last name was."

Gina looked at him, a little worried, "You can call me Gina you know, but what did she say when you said you didn't have one?"

He shook his head, "I didn't. Her mom stopped her from asking too many questions. I just wish I could remember my own last name. Do I even have one?"

After a few moments, Gina gently clasped a hand on his shoulder, "If it makes you feel any better, Nathanial, you can use my last name as yours."

He looked aghast at her comment, "I-I couldn't do that?!"

She smiled at him, "Sure you could. I already treat you like a younger brother anyway, who's to say you aren't? Besides, it'll help you avoid having to seem different. I understand how hard it is to fit into a new group of people. This will just help you out in the long run."

After a minute or so, Nathanial nodded his head slowly, "Are you sure it's alright?"

She pulled him into a light hug, "Of course. I'll even tell the professors so that they can call you that instead of Nathanial. Hard to teach a class when you're the only one being called by name."

Nathanial returned the hug, "Thank you, Gina."

She stroked his back lightly, "You're welcome, Nathanial. You can always talk to me when you're having problems."

Pulling back from the embrace, he smiled a little at her, "Okay."

_**End of Chapter 3**_


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